


All the Stars in the Universe

by poptod



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Awkward Flirting, Dorks in Love, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Reader, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: Ahkmenrah pining ft. you being a dumb shit(just a quick drabble. gender neutral reader)
Relationships: Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	All the Stars in the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> I found the family that Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah are based off of! I think. It took a lot of research and I don’t know why I did it. Anyway, they’ve got two more brothers.   
> *Aur: the Nile River (Nile means River in the Egyptian language)  
> **Uat-Ur: Mediterranean Sea  
> ***Kemet: Egypt

For some reason, you were never the main focus. Sure, you’re the main focus of _this_ story, but of most stories you’d come across in your short lifetime, you were not the main character. That duty fell to your sister, and then to your father, respectively. When you were around eight years old your sister was sold, a typical practice, and not one your family wanted to commit, but desperate times indeed called for desperate measures. It wasn’t for a long while till she eventually found her way back home, and with that, came a wonderful story of foreign lands, and a whole lot of murder. Then your father, when you were around ten years of age, befriended a prince by sheer luck. Nearby, next to the sea lay a tiny little country, titled Ahahiyawa, with a prince too friendly for his own good. He was much older than you, probably in his mid-twenties, and he spent a good deal of his time wandering down the coast, and incidentally coming across your little village.

Pthana was his name, and after coming across a place far more humble than what he was used to, he found a certain charm in it, and often returned when royal life came to be too much for him. You didn’t really understand that, but it wasn’t yours to understand. He and your father got along swimmingly, and were great friends, till the world turned upside down with the sacking of his home. 

One afternoon he came running from the distance, collapsing and panting in front of the cold firepit. His clothes were torn, and from his head a cut bled, his fingers covered in ash. All around people, many of them your family members, gathered to the prince, abandoning their clothes, food, and regular duties to hear whatever news he had to impart.

“Some foreign power - I could not find who, but they have killed my entire family,” he let out a choked sob, but held tears back long enough to continue, “they’re following me, I ask for your help. Provisions, so I may survive perhaps a little longer.”

“If what you say is true,” your father, who was the chief of your village, said, “then they will not hesitate to kill us as well, should they come across us, which they most certainly will if they followed you. I’m afraid we must all go, if we want to live.”

In that moment, you recalled feeling a healthy amount of fear, but the actual reality of your situation didn’t really kick in. It wasn’t possible that you could die, right? The thought wasn’t one that had ever crossed your mind before then. In fact, the shock had caught you in such a state that the _actual_ fear didn’t start up until you were two days into the desert with nothing but what you and your mules could carry. Throughout the whole of this rather traumatic time in your life, you were fifteen years old, and very, very scared.

“Will we go home soon?” You asked your mother, tugging at the long cloth that shrouded her whole body. 

“Um… maybe. We’ll see what your father says.” Though most of her face was obscured by her niqab, her eyes held the distinct shiftiness of a liar. You held her with a scrutinizing look, but let it go. 

You learned something very important that night, with that tiny conversation with your mother, and sneaking into your fathers’ tent to listen to him talking with Pthana - perhaps happiness does not last forever. 

By around the tenth sunrise, you began to forget to count the days. Luckily, your brother kept time, as the sky was one of his passions. Around this time, you lost the river you’d been following, and all that stretched was sand. For decades and decades you could wander in any direction, and find nothing but dust and misery, but misery found you far before you could ever find it. It came in the form of a sandstorm, arising at such a speed and strength that no tents could be put up before it overtook you. Petrified from fear you gaped at the rising cloud, and as it pierced your skin it began to do so to your throat. 

In a flash your mother grabbed you, wrapping up in the long cloth she wore, covering you from the horrid storm that surely would have torn your skin off had you stayed where you were. You couldn’t have known at any time before then, but you were exceedingly lucky that your family had the habit of covering their skin with as much cloth as they could. You, however, and you alone, got the short end of the stick, the back of your throat ravaged beyond belief to the point where any attempt at speech was unbearably painful. 

From then on, terrified to death of another storm arising, you wore a cloth wrapped around the bottom half of your face, and a turban on top, with various shirts and shawls covering your arms and torso. 

However frightening this time in your life was, happiness did exist in the world, although it certainly didn’t feel so to you. To you, the whole world had descended into chaos, and it was near impossible for anyone else to feel otherwise. Certainly, most certainly, everyone had to feel the same. Why wouldn’t they? Yet, as you entered a city of shining white walls, every soul seemed to prove you wrong.

You tried asking every now and then, walking through the streets and crowds of people, where exactly you were. Pulling at your parents clothing, you tried to motion the words with your hands. Your father payed you no attention, far too busy trying to find his way, and your mother told you that you wouldn’t know the city name anyway.

 _That’s beside the point_ , you thought bitterly, still trailing after your family. 

At that point in your journey, you found there was a lot you didn’t know. You accepted that, made peace with it, and decided to keep an open mind on things you knew nothing of. But, if there was one thing you _did_ know, it was that the biggest house in town always belonged to a man of great power, and that you don’t want to run into that man. 

That was exactly what your father did.

He walked right up the steps of a palace seated in the massive city, and asked for an audience with a man they called Pharaoh. Throughout the escort you remained quiet as possible, your large gathering drawing confused and judging stares from the various nobles inhabiting the building. It wasn’t long till you knelt at the feet of a man upon a throne, adorned in glittering jewelry and golden cloth. Upon his head he wore a crown, a snake delicately carved into it, and held his staff which stretched far beyond the reach of his height.

Keeping his head low Pthana stepped forward, explaining the situation and your family’s presence. Pharaoh seemed to take his word, leaning forward in mild interest as the story continued to the escalation and onwards, to the escape into the desert, and the arrival in the great city you just then learned was titled Memphis. 

He must’ve seen something, the Pharaoh; a potential ally, or a peaceful gesture in Pthana’s words, as he directed a few people to show you and your family to rooms you could stay in. Eternally grateful, your father thanked you profusely, to the point where the Pharaoh was clearly annoyed. Eventually you pulled him away, doing both you and the Pharaoh a favour.

For some reason, each of your family members got their own room, including you. You reasoned to yourself that it was a show of power, of riches, and that he hadn’t meant any ill by it. Theirs was a very different culture than your own, that one could easily see with their easy lack of dress and abundant food. 

Over the time you spent in the palace, a good deal of it was spent in their water garden. The nile, one they called Aur*, had a little drain that came right to the garden, and the plants that grew there were always green and forever blossoming. Besides that, you kept to yourself, something that unbeknownst to you, infuriated the prince you hadn’t even noticed existed. 

He’d first seen you in the throne room, bowed at the feet of his father, and your delicate beauty enraptured him. For weeks he’d been trying to get your attention in subtle ways - sitting next to you, passing you by in the gardens, even talking to your father and your siblings, but nothing seemed to get to you. No, simply, he wasn’t in your field of importance, and as upset as this made him, he vowed to do something about it. You caught his curiosity, and he preferred to find answers a more natural way rather than to ask straight out.

You remained blissfully unaware of his attempts, as it never occurred to you that… something could happen to _you_. You, the small child that was only a character to fill your fathers’ story, and to listen to your sister, to help your mother but never to be listened to. You just weren’t interesting enough. He certainly thought you were, though, but as unaware as you were of him, he was just as unaware of your inner monologue.

To his fortune, the perfect opportunity to introduce himself came around; surely you couldn’t be impervious to his flirtations, couldn’t ignore him if he offered a dance during one of his fathers’ parties, right? In his mind, it was decided, and in his mind he kept the perfect image reel of how the evening would go. You would enter the dining hall, and stay quiet by your family, till he would ask your hand for a dance, leaving you starstruck with him once you finally noticed he wanted your attention.

He stood in front of his floor length mirror, fluffing up his robes and making sure they flowed perfectly from his body, grooming himself for the evening. Twirling, he smiled to himself, the gold fabric cascading like a golden sunrise. He wasn’t one to be narcissistic, and certainly not one to be vain, but he had to admit he looked nice. That was his aim after all, to sweep you off your feet, and to do so, fine attire was a necessity. 

Once the sun began to set over distant hills the palace began to flood with people, all filing into the dining hall, where the main event would take place. Each royal had their place at the head table, lifted off the dance floor and looking over all other tables. In the center sat the Pharaoh, to his side his consort and sons. Sitting there was also Pthana, who was allowed to do so due to his own royalty. You on the other hand, sat near the head table, but still in the common tables. For a long while the sun kept the hall alight, torches dim compared to its’ power, till at last it set and the music started.

From various tables musicians stood, and the tables were all pushed to the sides of the room for a dance floor. At once beautiful melodies came from the instruments, many of which you’d never seen before. The room seemed to come alive, nobles dancing with each other, their rich tresses swirling in a poetic caper. You would’ve joined, but you couldn’t dance, and you certainly didn’t know the complicated steps of this foreign dance. Besides that, you enjoyed the music, and your dull clothing certainly wouldn’t fit in anyways. 

Caught up in the beauty of the music, how it traveled through the air like magic, you didn’t notice as a boy your age came closer, till he stood before you, a tall golden crown upon his head, and a long cape trailing after him. 

“May I dance with you?” He asked, a voice so soothing you could feel your whole body relax just as it tensed.

“I - uh,” you tried to get out nervously, your voice failing you as it so often did. You turned to your mother, your brow knitted together in anxiety. She took one look at the boy, then at you, before nodding. You glanced back at him, his hand outstretched as he bowed slightly. Upon his face a smile graced his lips, tugging delightfully at his crinkled eyes as you took his hand. 

“My name is Ahkmen,” he told you, holding you close to him, his hand on your waist as the two of you twirled in time with the other dancers.

“Ode,” you replied with your own name, your voice coming out rough and uneven. Looking away embarrassed, he spun you around, and the two of you circled each other. He led you in each direction you needed to go, and, watching what others did, you copied the dance in a way that would hopefully suffice.

Now, at this point, you were still completely impervious to the fact that you were dancing to the prince of Kemet***, and the favorite son of the Pharaoh that saved you and your family from certain death in the desert. No, you were completely under the impression that this was just a very well dressed boy who simply wanted a dance. He on the other hand, believed you were starstruck with him, and the fact that royalty chose you. His over-inflated sense of self-importance, an only common trait of many princes, certainly wasn’t any help to him in this situation.

The two of you continued your dance, him enraptured in your beauty, and you stumbling anxiously over your own feet, till the song ended, and he returned you to your parents. Winking slyly, he leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Only then did your heart stutter from his actions, your face flushing red as he came back up, smiling a confident smile, and striding off to stand near his own parents.

“What a nice boy,” your mother commented, leaning closer to you. Thoughtlessly you nodded, your gaze still trailing after him in a curious manner. 

You spent the rest of the evening thinking back to that dance. It was just a curious little happening, and you deemed it strange, and likely to never happen again. Though, to your surprise, something similar did in fact happen, whether you wanted to or not. As the same boy, Ahkmen, held out his hand once more not asking for a dance but instead for a stroll, you couldn’t decide if you were scared or excited. Nonetheless, you accepted, and in an achingly sweet hold he took you away from the dining hall filled with raucous laughter.

“I wondered if you could tell me more about yourself. I’ve heard precious little,” he requested, an ask you would have to regretfully decline.

For a moment you paused, your feet still moving you down the hall as you tried to tell him you couldn’t really speak. You tried with your hands, but that didn’t work, and your voice seemed to have entirely quit on you.

“Not one for speaking?” He asked, and though his tone remained polite, there was no missing the fall of his smile.

You nodded, accompanied with a shrug. A half truth.

“Then… perhaps I could tell you about myself?”

Once again, you nodded, this time much more eager. As little as you’d known him, you felt yourself suddenly very fluttery around the boy, as though the mere presence of him would make you fall in love. He was quite handsome, you had to admit, with piercing eyes and softer skin than any you’d felt before. Finding yourself caught up in his beauty, you hardly noticed him leading you into the gardens you frequented so often. Now, unlike the many days you’d spent there, the moon shone brighter than any star. Night rarely appeared so bright, the shadow you cast on the ground clear and distinct from the general murkiness of the evening. As pale as moonlight was, it felt warmer than ever to feel its’ light.

“Well, I’m the second youngest son of my father. I’ve got three brothers, one younger, two older, though I must admit I don’t care very much for any of them except Khufukhaf. He’s the youngest. Hmm… I’m studying hieroglyphs currently, though I’d rather spend my time chariot racing. That, or in the gardens… I find they have a special air, makes one feel much more alive.”

You agreed easily; one more thing for the two of you to have in common. 

“Might I ask where you’re from?”

“I -“ you tried, the vibrations burning your throat, “- near the sea.” 

The roughness and harsh growl of your voice was painful for you to hear, making you shrink back in on yourself. Usually your voice wasn’t like this, but after that sandstorm, you loathed to hear it for more than the fact that it simply wasn’t a kind voice to hear.

“Uat-Ur**? Or another one?” He asked, his eyes brightening at your speech. Straightening his posture just slightly, he delved deeper into the simple conversation between the two of you.

“Uat,” you shortened, hoping he wouldn’t mind. Swallowing, you tried to soothe the burn in the back of your throat.

“I’ve never been there. I hope to, one day, I’ve heard it’s beautiful,” he commented wistfully, his tone suddenly shifting from excited to, if anything a little melancholy. You again nodded your agreement. Your home by the sea really _was_ beautiful, though you’d never truly taken the time to notice it before you were forced to flee. 

“I suppose the nile here is beautiful as well. In the very least it’s practical. I… a lot of our poets try to describe the Aur as this wonderful woman, who’s beauty and bane are the sole heir to the world, but I’ve never really understood that. It’s just a nile, right? Yes, it feeds us, and for that we’re grateful, but there’s no need to be dramatic about it. Oh, I hope this doesn’t offend you. Do you like poetry like that? I would guess you do -“ he continued on before you could even think to speak “- considering you yourself must be the subject of many poems.”

You froze up, your jaw clenching as your heart raced in its’ cage. With wide eyes you looked up at him, confused and bewildered beyond belief. Why would he assume such a thing? You answered with a simple shake of your head - no. You had never been the subject of a poem. Mostly because none of the people you met could write.

“Hmm. I might have to change that, then,” he responded wistfully, looking up at the sky. Still confused, you wondered to yourself if it was custom for people to have poetry written about them in Memphis.

He continued to prattle on, a prattle you very much enjoyed as his voice soothed you quite so, till the moon sat high in the sky and the cheers of laughter ringing from the dining hall began to fade as people fell asleep and left. He spoke often of your beauty, though you didn’t catch onto that most times, and he spoke of the stars and constellations.

“It’s a passion of mine,” he told you. “I love the moon and stars.”

You came to know much more about him than just his love of chariot riding, gardens, and the night sky. He also enjoyed food - delicacies, the taste, and even making it, as well as the process of procuring ingredients for food. Overall, a very well rounded boy, sweeter than any stranger you’d met with the charms to match. To his disappointed surprise you did not kiss him at the end of the night, him standing at the threshold of your room as he held your hands in his.

“Thank you,” you got out in just barely over a whisper. He parted with a honey-sweet smile, bowing his head slightly and waiting till you closed your door to make his departure. 

By the time you made it into bed, all washed up and in the right clothes, you found yourself agreeing with your mother. _What a nice boy_.

+

In the hallways you passed by him often, but you didn’t actually notice his presence till he came up to you one day, sitting at the edge of the nile’s water with your feet dipped in. It was a pleasantly warm day, a few clouds in the sky but otherwise clear weather, with various birds and other animals flitting about and singing their amiable song. You were admiring the wording on the walls, as you hadn’t noticed it before, too caught up in the brush of the garden.

“Hello Ode,” he said simply, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. You smiled and waved in return, wondering what he was doing in the palace but greeting him kindly anyway. 

“I spoke to your parents, earlier. I think they like me,” he chuckled, leaning closer to you. You broke into a smile, looking down at the waters’ edge.

“They also told me why you don’t talk much. I want to apologize for trying to make you talk, it must hurt a lot,” he said, lowering to a quiet voice. Looking up at him you shrugged, your mouth parted slightly. It’s not like either of you could do anything about it.

“I might be able to help you. We have a very good physician here, he could at least give you a diagnoses,” he offered, watching as you lit up, your mouth gaping wider. Chuckling, he asked, “would you like me to take you to him?”

You nodded profusely. No way would you turn down an opportunity such as this. Standing, he offered you his hand, which you took, helping you up. He led you back into the palace, through several halls, till you came to a tall wooden door, bolted shut. Knocking twice, a few footsteps sounded behind it, before it creaked open ever so slowly. Inside was a man so tall he had to lean down to see you, with ink black skin and stunning white hair that grew to great lengths.

“What have we here?” He asked, his voice surprisingly low and smooth. You half expected the man to rasp much like yourself.

“This is Ode. There’s something wrong with their voice,” Ahkmen stated clearly, smiling politely up at the tall man. You bowed your head as your own greeting. Sniffing, he opened the door wider, and the two of you entered the room.

It stunk - horribly, a wretched scent like the putrid mixture of decaying corpses and feces. Scrunching up your nose, you tried to keep your face neutral, so as to not show your disgust. The whole room was covered in dust, and old parchments rolled up in all the shelves. In the corner was a hole in the wall, airing out the room but doing little for the scent. Smoke from a fire filled the high ceiling, giving the whole room a hazy feel.

“Any pinpoint on when the voice troubles started?” The man asked, his back to you as he looked over a dusty scroll placed upon a pedestal. 

“Sandstorm,” you got out, letting out a little cough as you did so. He nodded sagely, as though he knew just what you needed. You prayed he did.

Looking up, he turned to you with a smile, clasping his hands together. Then, turning to the fire, which had a pot of water over it, he took the water and poured it into a cup.

“I’d advise a good amount of hydration. Drink lots of water, and when available, tea,” he said, mixing honey into the cup. You turned to Ahkmen, who was now sitting in the corner and humming to himself, a tablet in his lap. Turning back, the man added another flowery substance, mixing it in, before handing it to you. Gingerly you took it from him, sniffing it cautiously before drinking.

Surprisingly, it didn’t taste bad at all - in fact, it was rather sweet, how you imagined a winter sunrise to taste like. 

“Thank you,” you said, though your voice still remained raspy, it didn’t hurt quite as much.

“Try not to talk too much,” the man warned you. When another knock came at the already open door, and a stranger peeked his head in, the physician ushered you and Ahkmen out. You walked side by side, you keeping the cup close to your chest and him in a relaxed stroll.

“What do you think of him?”

“Nice,” you answered simply.

“Mm. I’m glad we have him, I really want to hear what you sound like. I bet you’ve got a beautiful voice.”

You shrugged, and he frowned, for reasons that remained to you unknown. As grateful as you were for this new friendship and the gifts it brought, you couldn’t easily express it, just as you couldn’t express your confusion for _who_ exactly Ahkmen was that allowed him to wander the palace freely. Not that it really mattered - you were only curious, and it wasn’t necessary information. 

He was very kind, you thought, after he escorted you back to your room. Lying on your bed and staring up at the ceiling you wondered why he was so nice to you. It wasn’t like you had a distinct personality anymore. You didn’t use facial expressions very often, and the only glimpse of a personality came from your words that you scarcely used even before the incident, so what interested him so deeply?

On the other side of the palace, Ahkmen wondered something similar to what you were wondering at the exact same time, though different in its’ own way. He questioned why you didn’t blush, simply didn’t _understand_ that he was trying to flirt with you when it was so painfully obvious that he was. Every chance given to him he would compliment you, even going out of his way to help you, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Sure, your culture was different from his own, so it probably posed a bit of a problem there, but _damn_ were you oblivious, and by the time he’d known you for two months or so, he was getting desperate. 

_Maybe if I throw a brick at you saying ‘I like you,’ you’ll get the idea_ , he thought to himself, watching as you played with the turtles at the waters’ edge. The edge of your lips twisted up into a half smile, sparking his heart to skip a beat. Over the time you’d spent in Memphis your voice had gotten much better, but you still rarely used it, only when necessary. That was another thing that annoyed him, but he didn’t place the blame on you. He recognized that, unfortunately, even as your voice healed you just didn’t talk much, and there was very little he could do about that besides enjoy the moments in which you did talk.

It was, once again, a perfect day. Not a cloud in sight, the sky a beautiful blue, and birds singing in the trees above. In the river fish swam by, and at your feet, turtles nudged curiously at the stick you held.

“Do you like turtles?” He asked, breaking the silence that had spanned for nearly an hour now.

“They’re sweet,” you replied, not taking your eyes off them.

“A bit like you, though you’re much sweeter,” he said, knowing full well he’d get very little reaction out of you. As predicted, you hummed a dull acknowledgement.

He took your hand as you dropped the stick, shifting closer to you till his head rested on your shoulder. With gentle hold he began to trace the veins up your arm, a feather touch that sped your heart up tenfold. You attempted to keep a straight face, and kept your head looking forward, instead of at the boy who relaxed on you.

“Ahk?”

“Yes…?” He replied, looking up at you when for a few minutes you did not pose your question. The silence lasted a short while as you tried to find the right words.

“I’ve.. refrained, from saying this… as I didn’t want to offend you, but…-” Finally, to ask the question that had been bothering you so long, “- what is it you do in the palace? I haven’t been able to find out.”

“I’m - well I guess I’m not sure what I do,” he answered honestly, and a short giggle escaped from you, sparking him to smile warmly up at you. “As Pharaoh’s son, I have to make sure, should my elder brothers die, that I am prepared to rule Kemet. Other than that, I don’t do much.”

Your throat swelled thick with blood as you choked on his answer. A _prince_?! The entirety of your body tensed up, realizing very suddenly that a prince of a great kingdom was resting his head on your shoulder, and that he’d been doing that for a while now. Noticing your change in demeanor, he sat up straight, trying to catch your eye.

“Ode? Are you alright?” He asked, placing his hand on your shoulder and shaking gently.

“I, uh. I didn’t know you were a, um, prince,” you whispered out. A beat of silence, then he began to laugh, slow and quiet at first, till he rolled onto his back, tears falling from his eyes. Your mouth wide, you tried to help him up, absolutely mortified at the situation. 

“Shh!” You told him. “This isn’t funny!”

“I’m sorry, but it so definitely _is_. How odd the occurrences that you’d never find out I’m prince!”

Giving it another thought, you realized it _was_ a little queer. Surely his inferiors referred to him as Prince, and the Pharaoh refer to him as son, so it was quite the rare happening that no one would ever refer to him in front of you. That, and that it never came up in conversation, and his stance in the city would never come up with you around. 

“I guess… it’s a little funny,” you mumbled as Ahkmen calmed down. 

“It is! I find no offense in it, but I am glad the miscommunication has been cleared up.”

A _prince_. Your head spun with the possibilities, new meanings, and new questions that the information brought. If he was a prince, one of high standing, why in the world would he take any interest in you?

+

It wasn’t very often you couldn’t sleep well, so when you couldn’t sleep, you had close to no idea on how to help yourself. Tossing restlessly in your bed, you turned your gaze to the arches letting in the cool air of night. As the wind blew soft against your skin, you thought perhaps a walk might do you some good - you’d only seen the gardens at night once anyways.

Wrapped in your cloth you wandered down into the garden, watching the moon reflect into the water, ripples from various birds making the water dance. All stilled, and for a moment, all that mattered was the stars and their mystery, till footsteps sounded behind you. Half expecting Ahkmen, you turned around, instead to be greeted with a boy older than you.

“Oh. Hello,” he said, his voice high and timid. “It’s usually empty here.”

“Sorry,” you said, getting to your feet to leave.

“No, it’s alright,” he said, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “You’re my brothers’ friend, right?”

“Ahkmen? Yes.”

“I haven’t been able to introduce myself. My name is Khafra. I’m his older brother. Well, he’s got two, but anyways… what are you doing up?”

He sat on the ground, gesturing with his head for you to join him. Slow and careful you sat beside him, a decent distance between the two of you, but not too much. Etiquette was a very important thing in the palace, you found, which was difficult since you had no idea what the proper etiquette was. Still, he didn’t seem to mind your nervousness, so you let it go.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you answered plainly, keeping your eyes on the edge of the water brushing the shore.

“Ah. Neither can I, but that’s normal for me. I haven’t seen you down here before. Do you come here often?”

“In the daytime. Not often in the night. I… I don’t usually have sleeping trouble.”

“Our physician might be able to help you. He has this flower, apparently helps with sleep,” Khafra suggested, turning to you.

“Why don’t you take it?” You asked, hoping you didn’t sound suspicious.

“I’m allergic.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No trouble. Want me to take you to him?”

“Um…” You didn’t want to bother him, in fact you’d hate to, but you couldn’t remember which way the physician was, and you needed to sleep at some point. “Yes. Thank you.”

With a smile and a nod he helped you stand, and lead you through familiar hallways till you once more came to that wooden door. Khafra didn’t knock, instead opening the door with a creak. The smoke of the day had already dissipated, and moonlight shone through the window, a silver of what it once was.

“Adom?” He called, trying to keep quiet. In the corner of the room, the snoring physician jumped with a grumble, lying on the floor with an assortment of plants, vials, and scrolls across his body. His eyes half lidded he straightened himself up, standing at attention when he noticed the prince.

“Sleep troubles again, eh?” Adom said, his voice just as pissed off as ever. 

“Yes, but I’m more here for my friend, Ode. I don’t think you’re allergic to valerian, right?” He turned to look at you, and you shook your head. Probably not - to your knowledge, you’d never actually come across it.

“Mmm. More tea, then… Ahkmen could use some as well, to be honest,” said Adom, talking to himself as he tended to the dying fire.

“Is he having troubles as well?” Khafra asked, sitting himself down on a large chair near the bookcase.

“Somewhat. He’s in the backroom, studying those Hittite texts again, trying to match it to our star charts.”

“Again? Seriously? Gods…” Khafra grumbled, stomping his way into the backroom, where, for an instant, you glimpsed Ahkmen before he shut the door behind him.

“Take a seat, child. It’ll be ready soon,” Adom insisted, leading you to the chair Khafra had been sitting in. Gingerly you took a seat, keeping your knees locked together, your back stiff as a board, and your fingers tightly threaded with each other. Feeling rather out of place, you tried to find a place to stare at that wouldn’t raise any questions. You settled on the window, the dusty light of a half moon illuminating the fires’ shadow.

Behind the door you heard voices, raised to yelling, then laughter, followed once more by yelling. 

_Interesting family_ , you thought to yourself, your eye still not moving from the window. When at last the water began to boil, the door opened, and out came the two brothers. Adom took the water off the fire, pouring it into the cup you’d used before, adding in what you assumed was valerian. Looking to the brothers, Adom pulled out another cup, pouring water into that as well. In the corner they continued speaking in a hushed voice, Ahkmen not noticing you. Once Adom finished mixing the two cups, he handed one to you, then to Ahkmen.

“What’s this?” He asked, looking down at his cup then back up at Adom.

“Sleep tea. I’m kicking you out,” Adom explained dully, turning back to the corner you’d found him in and sitting in the papers he’d been sleeping with.

“I -“ his eye found you, “- oh, hello Ode. What are you doing up?”

“What are _you_ doing up?” You retaliated, sipping at your tea.

“Studying -“

“When you should be sleeping,” Khafra interrupted, poking his brother in the chest, before making his way over and sitting in a chair beside you.

“I don’t need sleep, I need answers,” he pouted, setting his cup down on the table and largely ignoring it in favour of staring at you. Uncomfortably you shifted, crossing your left leg over the other. 

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have answers,” you mumbled, staring at your tea. A moment of silence passed, before Khafra stood, clasping his hands together.

“I’m going to go see if I can sleep now. You,” he pointed at Ahkmen, “drink. And as for you,” he turned to you, “I can see why Ahkmen likes you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re intriguing and… beautiful,” he said quietly, hesitating before the compliment. “I’d probably try to marry you if my brother didn’t already have you.”

He smiled curtly at the both of you, then left. Ahkmen was horrified, clearly so, a panic stricken expression on his face, his mouth hanging open. You on the other hand, were frozen in place, unsure of what had just happened.

“Hmm,” you hummed, instead of using a proper response. With that, the two of you decided unanimously and silently that you would pretend Khafra had never said that. Still, it left a good deal of questions, all of which you were happy to dismiss if you never had to confront the idea of marriage again.

“What are you doing up?” Ahkmen asked, finally taking his cup and sipping from it.

“Just couldn’t sleep. That’s all. Went to the gardens, found Khafra, and he recommended this,” you explained, holding the tea up. “So. Star charts?”

“Yes! Um, the Hittites have these certain shapes they find in the stars, just as we do. I’m attempting to match up the different things we’ve found. It’s a little difficult, to be honest,” he ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it up. Looking back up at you, a spark in his eye, your stomach flipped inside out, eyes widening at his smile.

“Sounds interesting,” you said, instead of freaking out.

“I find it interesting. I don’t think anyone else does, though.”

“You two need to sleep,” Adom said, still in his corner looking over the various scrolls he’d crushed in his sleep. Looking up at Ahkmen, he nodded, and the two of you quickly finished your teas and departed with a thanks.

You didn’t have a habit of wandering around palaces at night, but you thought maybe you should make a routine of it. The silence calmed you as much as it disturbed you, dark halls holding possibly nothing or everything in them. 

“Shall I walk you back to your room?” Ahkmen suggested, and you nodded with a grateful smile. He was sweet, that you already knew, even if it always seemed to surprise you. By then you should’ve known better, known he was kind and soft, yet still you wondered why he was nice to you. You didn’t need his kindness, nor his friendship, as much as you loved it. You still weren’t important. 

“You’re far too kind to me,” you said, voicing your inner thoughts, and unknowingly your fear.

“I’m not. You deserve kindness,” he said, stopping you in front of your room before you could enter. “You deserve kindness,” he repeated. “The universe loves you to the extent of the heavens, but I still love you more.” Gently, he threaded his fingers into yours, every touch they made together godly in its’ purpose. 

“Your words.. are more suited, for someone like you,” you murmured, slow and thoughtful of every word. Tilting his head, he tried to meet your eye, but you kept staring nervously at the floor.

“If, um.. if you can’t sleep, come get me, okay?”

“Alright.”

With a smile he departed, looking back once to find you still watching him leave. Chuckling, he turned a corner, and disappeared from sight. Only then did you go back inside your room, collapsing onto the floor, your back to the door.

_So that’s what it feels like to have poetry written about you._

+

For the next week you paid more attention to the little things he did - the compliments, though you never payed much attention to them, were beginning to stand out in your memory. Khafra was a good confidant whenever you needed to talk about your crush on the young prince, as Kahmuh was almost always in the middle of a tantrum, while Khufukhaf, the youngest brother, was too immature to know when to keep his mouth shut. At least, that’s what Khafra said, and you would rather be safe than sorry.

“I like him, but he makes me nervous,” you told him, sitting across from him and a game of Senet between the two of you.

“You’ll get over that, I think. You’re naturally pretty anxious,” he noted, looking your tense body up and down, “so it’ll dissipate the longer you know him.”

“Doesn’t matter either way,” you mumbled, making your move on the board. Picking out his own pieces, he trained his eyes intensely on the game.

“What does that mean?” He asked.

“Well, even if I do find that I… love him, I couldn’t be with him. He’s royal, I’m not even from Kemet.”

“I thought you were already together?”

“What? No! No,” you cleared your throat, feeling rather awkward after your outburst. Would it really be that bad if he was with you? Well, no, you reasoned, but it would still be breaking plenty of rules. 

“It wouldn’t do any harm, you know. He’s third in line for the throne, I doubt both Kahmuh and I will die before we have our own children, so it shouldn’t matter who he marries,” he reasoned, picking at the loose splinters of the wooden table. Sighing, you moved your piece, resting your head on your palm.

“Even so, I doubt anyone would like me in that way.”

“You are the most dense, oblivious person I’ve met,” he said plainly as you made your move in the game.

“Thanks.”

You joined him for dinner, your parents and Pthana being present as well. The Pharaoh sat at the head of the table, overlooking the feast being set out in front of him. Always trying to be respectful, you kept your eyes on your own plate, empty though it was. Across from you, the four brothers sat, and directly in front of you was Ahkmen, who kept trying to catch your eye with a smile. 

“Do you feel like we’re infringing on their hospitality?” You asked your mother in a whisper once conversation had started up between the Pharaoh, Pthana, and Kahmuh. 

“Your father worked that out with the Pharaoh. We may stay as long as we like so long as Pthana stays,” she explained curtly before turning back to the head of the table.

Swallowing thick, you tried to continue as normal. The thought of leaving the palace didn’t bother you too much, in the very least you’d stop being their problem. What bothered you was being in Pharaoh’s presence - he terrified you to your very core, the stone behind his eyes an unbreakable barrier to his mind. You remained respectful, if not fearful, and left as soon as it was possible. 

Your room was safe, you thought to yourself, even if it belonged to the Pharaoh. Overlooking a beautiful stretch of the Aur, you knew you had a lot to be thankful for. Resting your elbows on the railing, you looked out, sighing as a soft gust of wind rushed by you. Two knocks at the door resounded in your empty room, and as you turned to face the door, it opened a crack.

“Ode? May I come in?” Ahkmen asked, peeking his crinkled eyes in. With a nod, he entered fully, smiling brightly at you.

“Need something?” You asked as he approached you, him remaining silent till he stood almost too close.

“No, just wondering where you ran off to,” he said smiling at you before looking over the top of your head at the view from your balcony.

“I, um, wasn’t feeling well,” you lied quickly. “Thought some rest might help.”

“I understand. I’ve got a similar view from my room, except it looks over the city. From our height it sort of looks like a reflection of the heavens,” he murmured wistfully.

“What?”

“The city. People light their torches and the taverns glow at night, but it’s still sparse enough that the streets don’t light, so all those lights look like stars in the darkness. It’s beautiful, but you can’t see the nile easily. Not like you can here,” he said, breathing night air deeply. He stood at the railing, his elbows supporting him as he leaned.

“It’s… nice,” you settled on. Starlight glittered in the water, and leaves rustled in the breeze, but you weren’t one for poetry. At least not usually, not _often_ , not until Ahkmen had you breathless with only words. 

“You say very little,” he said suddenly, an observation too obvious to state, “but I feel like I know you, that I’m close to you. I - I’m just now realizing you may not feel that way around me.”

You let the silence stretch, wondering what words you could use to comfort him, what actions you could take. Breathing slow, uneven breaths you rested your hand on his arm, your touch barely there as you made your way up to his hand, entangling your fingers together till you were pressed against him, the heat of your palms warming each other.

“I like you plenty. I feel… warm,” you mumbled, pressing your head into his chest and letting yourself relax.

“Is that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, keeping your eye on the distant water.

Pressing your vulnerabilities against each other, you stayed there for a while longer, too scared to move lest the moment rush by to only be memory. 

“You should probably get to sleep if you aren’t feeling well,” he told you in a mellow voice, placing a hand on your shoulder and jostling you from your position. In an instant you remembered your little lie, and went along with it.

“You should as well,” you said, still staring at your hands knitted with his.

“I will. Promise,” he chuckled, walking with you till you were sitting on your bed. Before you could even attempt to lay yourself down, he stepped forward, leant down, and pressed a kiss against your lips. 

Shocked into petrification, you stared wide eyed ahead at nothing in particular. Stammering just slightly, his face a brilliant shade of red, Ahkmen rushed out of the room without another word.

+

Over the course of the next several days you didn’t see him. Not for lack of trying on your part, in fact, the night of the act you’d rushed after him, only to reach your door and having no idea which way he went. Lost for cause of his disappearance, you went to Khafra, who had only failed you once before, but besides that was reliable. Fidgeting, pulling at your skin and pinching yourself you approached him as he read in the garden.

“Can I talk to you?” You asked in barely a whisper, your eyes still wide and not meeting his own.

“Of course. Something wrong?” He asked, setting the scroll down.

“I got kissed.”

“What?”

“Ahk kissed me,” you said louder, pinching your skin tighter.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows, turning to you with a slow nod. “I’m impressed. Didn’t think he had the guts for it.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, he’s never really been a go-getter -“

“No, I mean… why did he kiss.. me…?”

“Oh,” he mumbled, going silent as he stared at the ground. “He obviously really likes you. What happened after he kissed you?”

“He left, and I haven’t seen him since,” you explained, feeling rather guilty, if not sick in the stomach. As dull as the world had grown, it was still too much for you.

“Hmm… I think I might know where he is. I’ll go fetch him,” he said, standing up and leaving the parchment on the seat.

“I don’t want to bother you, I can get him,” you volunteered, shooting up from the seat you’d taken beside him.

“No, it’s alright. The place is a little hard to find - where shall I deliver him to?”

“Um.. here, I suppose,” you said after a moment of thought. The garden would work well as long as no one interrupted your talk. Hardly anyone ever used it anyways, besides sometimes Pharaoh’s wife, but she always stayed near the entrance, where the lilies were most plentiful. Further down the line, following the path of the water there were hanging trees filled with dates, and that would do just fine for a talk you knew would be grueling and embarrassing. 

Deciding that it might be a while till the both of them came back, you occupied your time in the way any sane person would - lying on the grassy plain and staring up into the clouds that hung low in the afternoon sky.

 _Maybe it’ll rain later today_ , you thought absently. _Or not,_ you added at the end, just in case you were wrong. Several hours passed, till it was nearing evening, till the doors of the garden swung open. Far enough away that you couldn’t be spotted, you hid behind a nearby tree, and watched as the two brothers walked side by side.

“This is a bad idea. What I did was a bad idea,” Ahkmen said, clearly distressed no matter how hard it was to hear him. He didn’t wear his crown, nor his wig, and his hands kept gripping at the curls upon his head and tugging harsh at them.

“You’ll be fine. Can’t ignore your problems forever, any way you look at it. This’ll be good for you,” Khafra insisted, patting him on the back and shoving him in your direction. You crouched down behind the tree, waiting till he passed by and would be able to see you.

Moving down the path, now alone, he caught sight of you and froze with a blush.

“Ahkmen, I was worried about you,” you said, deciding that it would be a good opening statement to not mention the kiss. Standing, you held his wrist, hoping it’d stop him from running away should he want to.

“I - uh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his gaze low.

“It’s fine, I just… we need to talk,” you said with a sigh, moving to try and meet his eye, but he refused. He hummed, his shoulders sagging and head held low.

“Ahk?”

“Yeah, I’m - I’m listening.”

“… okay. Why’d you kiss me?”

“I don’t know. I thought that you liked me, y’know, in that way.”

“That’s - do you have - I… most people kiss people because _they_ like them. Not because the other person might like them.”

“I know, I just thought that it’d be… reciprocated, or something. It was dumb, and I’m sorry.”

“… what would be reciprocated?”

“You know you’re really oblivious sometimes?”

“I’ve gotten that before,” you chuckled, your heart beating fifty times a second. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to outright say what you mean. I don’t get the subtle things in life.”

“It’s really a shame, too. You miss a lot when you can’t understand the small motions of the world, and… all those times that people try to express their love,” he said, haltingly as he moved your hand grasping his wrist to hold in his own. Still, he did not meet your eye, instead staring at your held hands.

“I know,” you mumbled, feeling rather disappointed in yourself.

“I tried to show you, actually. I thought you knew, thought it was obvious, but apparently not. I’ve… sort of.. fallen for you, over your stay here. I’m not ashamed of it or of myself, rather the manner in which I tried to express it. Wasn’t very appropriate,” he muttered the last bit, turning away. Taking a chance, you rested your hand on his cheek, and gently turned him to at last face you. His eyes glittered red with unshed tears, but he sniffed, quickly wiping them away. “I’m sorry,” he reiterated. 

“No need,” you said sweetly, brushing a stray tear away with your thumb. However vague it had been before, it was so clear now - though there were still many unanswered questions, you’d be okay.

“Is it alright if I kiss you?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I didn't put much effort into it, as you can tell. Thanks for reading till the end anyways :)


End file.
